


look who's digging their own grave

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: The Monster's Darling [16]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Broken Bones, Fist Fights, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 03:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: AU. “The last time we got into a fight I broke your wrist and nearly snapped your neck,” Dark replies. “And I was in a good mood. You wanna go down that road again?”





	look who's digging their own grave

**Author's Note:**

> More on Anti and his goal. It's about time. 
> 
> Sort of a segwey into the coming chapters. I'm not terribly good at writing violence, so I make an effort to talk to a lot of people about how to...break bones. These two had a strange relationship. I think that shows?
> 
> Anyway, I know I have more to say but I'm blanking out. I'll edit in what I want to say if I can think of it. Always love hearing from you guys, and hearing your thoughts!! 
> 
> Thank you all so much, enjoy!
> 
> Title from "Icarus" by Bastille.

Of course he’s fucking here.

“Dyed your hair back,” Anti drawls, sitting on his desk like he owns it. “I always did prefer you with the natural look. Makes you tall, dark, and--something, I suppose. Handsome’s probably not the right word.” 

“If ever there were a time I was less in the mood for your shit,” Dark tosses his bag on the ground with a thud. “It’s now. Pity me, Anti. I don’t want to talk.” 

Anti hops off the desk. “I don’t think I’m even remotely capable of pitying you. Honestly, you’re too much of a dick for me to consider pitying you. Anyway, thought I’d pop by. Been hearing things here and there. Why did you dye it back?”

Dark rubs at his eyes. “Jules insisted. After the shitstorm, he said it’d be better if I made less of a spectacle of myself. Red was too much of a beacon.”

“One of the few times I do agree with the snippy, bitchy Mr. Arvid,” Anti pops a cigarette into his mouth, lighting it. He takes a deep breath. “Anyway. Feel like fighting? I’m kind of in the mood.”

“The last time we got into a fight I broke your wrist and nearly snapped your neck,” Dark replies. “And I was in a good mood. You wanna go down that road again?”

“I’ve changed a lot,” Anti smiles, soft and secretive. “That very encounter had you with a busted lip and a fractured collarbone, and some significant bruising.” 

Dark sighs. “I’m not fighting you.”

“Pussy,” Anti sucks in a drag of the cigarette. “Afraid I’ll beat you, now?” 

With a sneer, Dark loosens his tie, dropping it to the ground. “Shut the fuck up, Anti.” 

Anti pushes up the sleeves of his baggy hoodie, and Dark notices the familiarity of it. He recalls the jacket being one of his own, a long time ago. Anti stubs out his cigarette on Dark’s desk, popping his knuckles. “Make me. Come on. No guns, no knives. Just you, me, and some skin.”

“You wanna fight in here?” Dark folds up his own sleeves. “Where I am fully capable of tossing you into filing cabinet, beating your head against my desk?”

“I’ll take my chances,” Anti says. 

There’s a reason Dark’s old nickname for Anti is glitch--and it’s not because he’d been a talented hacker, though that much is true. Anti is fast, almost as though he’s distorting himself through reality. He’s always been fast, and even if he’s not strong physically, the surprise packs a punch.

Anti slams him into the door, fist firmly seated against his ribs. Dark’s only response is to grab him by the face, shoving him backwards. 

“Cocky,” Dark comments dryly. “Really, Anti, you want to out muscle me?”

“All I hear is talk,” Anti answers. “Honestly, that didn’t even hurt, Dark. You’ve gotten weaker.” 

He’s expecting the punch that Dark delivers to his stomach, but he lets it hit him. Anti breathes out, barely getting in a little laugh before he grabs Dark by the throat, using the momentum to knock him to the floor. Dark fists his fingers into the loose hoodie, yanking him down with him, narrowly missing the shot Anti throws at his head. He looms over him, straddling him by the waist, and when Anti brings his hands down to slam into him again, Dark grabs his wrists. 

“I was wondering where this hoodie had gone,” Dark muses. “I don’t wear them a lot anymore, but this one was my favorite.”

“It was mine too,” Anti smiles, pressing his knee into Dark’s chest. 

Dark releases his hands to backhand him, throwing him off. He delivers a swift snap to his nose, satisfied by the way Anti howls at that. 

“Bitch,” blood dribbles down Anti’s face. “Funny. I remember that hurting a lot more last time. You’ve gotten weak. Seems like McLoughlin made you soft.”

He grabs Anti by the throat, bearing down on it. He enjoys the way Anti’s neck convulses, trying vainly to get air into it. Anti sinks his nails into his wrists, dragging down, sharp enough to bleed, but Dark doesn’t move. 

Anti hikes a leg up and pushes it against his stomach, digging the heel of his boots in enough to make Dark release him. He gasps, rubbing his throat for a moment before grabbing a fistful of Dark’s hair, slamming his face into the ground. 

But he can’t hold him there. Reaching around, Dark grabs his arm and yanks, and the moment the pressure from his hair is gone, he spins around, elbowing him in the face. Gripping Anti’s hair, he slams _his_ face into the ground, giving it an experimental drag for good measure. 

“Got blood on your carpet,” Anti murmurs, not sounding at all sorry. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, doll,” Dark pulls him back up, tugging at the locks. To Anti’s credit, he doesn’t show that it hurt. “We done?” 

“Really, that’s all you got in you?” Anti says. He grabs onto Dark’s wrist, the one gripping his hair. He digs his nails in again, twisting. “I expected so much more out of the Monster. Though, I guess you’re not much of a monster these days.”

“It’s like you actually want to die,” Dark replies, slamming his face back into the ground. He hikes his leg over him, pressing his knee between Anti’s shoulderblades. Latching onto his elbow, he says, “You only had to ask, glitch. You know I’d do anything for you.”

Anti sounds like he’s smiling, but he’s got to know what’s about to happen. “I think you’re telling that to the wrong face.”

“Eat shit,” Dark’s broken enough arms to know how this works. In a swift movement, he snaps Anti’s arm back at the elbow.

The way that Anti jolts is satisfying, his body responding to the pain in the most violent way possible. But Dark’s both bigger and heavier than him, so it takes little to keep him in place. He’s always loved seeing Anti in pain--they had a very strange relationship. Nine times out of ten, whenever they fucked, it started with a fistfight first. 

“You gonna be nice?” Dark steps off of him, fully prepared to kick him if he says no. Anti makes a noncommittal noise, shifting himself to where he’s sitting, cradling his fucked arm. In a gesture of goodwill, Dark offers a hand to him. 

With his good hand, Anti takes it, allowing Dark to pull him to his feet. He wobbles, slightly, his face scrunching up, zoning in on the hairlines of blood on Dark’s wrists. 

There’s a little smile on his face when he does it, and it’s so sudden that Dark barely registers it. Anti yanks him forward and into his knee. The air whooshes out of his lungs, and Anti shoves him to the ground. 

Dark sucks in a breath and Anti slams him in the eye, one good hit. He hisses, covering the eye, and Anti wipes some of the blood away from his nose.

“Now I’ll be nice,” Anti’s spits on the floor. “Feel better?”

Once he’s gotten enough oxygen back into his lungs, Dark grouses out, “Cheap shit, Anti.”

“I never pretended not to be a cheap shit,” Anti replies. He seems completely unbothered by his broken arm. “Shit. You got my nose good. Fuckin’ stings.” 

“I’m going to have a black eye tomorrow,” Dark mumbles. “Probably some bruises on my ribs and certainly on my wrists, you fucking cat.” 

“Boo hoo,” Anti sits down, crossing his legs. “You broke my goddamn arm.” 

“You started it,” Dark lets out a sigh, finding that laying on the bloody carpet isn’t so bad. “What the fuck, Anti? What the hell was that all about?”

Digging into his hoodie pocket, miraculously unscathed is a pack of smokes, Anti uses his mouth to pull a cigarette out. Rummaging again, he lights it.

“Feel better?” he echoes his earlier question. 

Dark still doesn’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean. “You mean beating the shit out of you was supposed to make me feel better?” 

“You’re cranky when you don’t let your feelings out,” Anti says, around the cigarette. “Or fuck them out. Or fight them out. None of which you were doing at this given time.”

“Maybe I haven’t needed to,” Dark replies, petulant and stiff. “That isn’t your call to make.” 

“You think I haven’t heard?” Anti blows out a whirlwind of smoke. “About you, about McLoughlin?” 

“You think I give a single rat’s ass?” Dark closes his eyes. “You made it very, very clear you don’t care about me or my feelings.” 

Anti sighs. “I’m being contrary for contrary’s sake. _A mhuirnín_ , surprisingly, I do recall telling you not to hurt Jack McLoughlin.” 

“Like that was my goddamn intention,” Dark grouses out. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know about this already.” 

Reaching up, he holds up a hand, and Anti stubs out the cigarette on his palm. It’s not the first time he’s done this, and if history’s anything to go by, it won’t be the last. He forces himself to stay there when Anti drops it into his palm, just out of spite if nothing else. He puts it between his own lips, reaching for his own lighter somewhere in his pocket. 

Sucking in a breath of it, he murmurs, “I didn’t want to kill his fucking mom, okay? I didn’t wake up that morning and think, _huh, how can I make him hate me so badly that he’ll never forgive me?_ That’s stupid.”

“I don’t put stupid past you anymore,” Anti says. “Anyway. Consider this a pity handout. It’s been awful watching you flounder around, trying to find your way like a lamb ready to die. I thought maybe after a good fight, you’d be able to think clearer.” 

“And remind me why you give a single shit?” Dark breathes out. “You often like to remind me that you haven’t, and never have, cared about me.” 

“When did you become such a teenage girl?” Anti drawls out. “Don’t answer that. Basically, Dark, I’m here to tell you I’m on your side.” 

“This black eye says otherwise,” Dark mumbles. “Tell that to my bruised ribs and scraped wrists.” 

“I don’t like Cry,” Anti says. “I never have. Man’s a freak if you ask me--more than both of us combined, and that’s saying something. Never met a weirdo more obsessive about people. Honestly, the sooner he’s dead, the better.”

Dark rolls the cigarette in his fingers. “You could have killed him eons ago. Why now?” 

“Jack McLoughlin is...special to me,” he breathes out. “For my own reasons. He fucked with him, and now I’m going to make him pay for it. I know you have some of your own revenge to dish out. We’re on the same side, as far as I’m concerned. I’d rather not work against you when I can work with you to achieve a common goal.” 

“Jack wants to kill him,” Dark tells him. “I’ve been teaching him how to kill. He wants to look him in the eye and make him pay for fucking him over.”

“So be it,” Anti says. “His choices are his. I’m sure you’ve already had the _there’s no going back_ talk with him. Truthfully, I think given the nature of his relationship with you, this was long coming. You gonna let him do it?”

“Probably,” Dark stubs the cigarette out, tossing it somewhere else in the room. “Cry’s gonna die, one way or another. I’m seeing to it, and it appears you are as well.” 

Pulling himself to his feet, Anti stands, offering his good hand out to Dark. He’s right to be wary of the gesture, so Dark stands on his own. Anti gives him a sly smile at that. 

“You’re never going to tell me why Jack is important to you,” Dark muses. “Or why you’re helping me. Not the real answer, anyway.”

“Nope,” Anti snickers. “Good to see you’re finally figuring it out.” 

Carrying himself and his fucked arm, Anti walks out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, hearing from you guys means the world to me. I always love answering comments and asks on this fic, even if sometimes I'm a little late in answering! Thank you all so, so much, and I hope this chapter lives up to expectation! 
> 
> Come chat with me over at galaxyghosty.tumblr.com!


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